


Terms and Conditions May Apply

by Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling)



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Archenland, Banter, Bargaining, Dancing, F/M, Flirting, Prompt Fic, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 21:16:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12849690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenfalling/pseuds/Elizabeth%20Culmer
Summary: Aravis and Cor negotiate the results of a bet.





	Terms and Conditions May Apply

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musesfool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/gifts).



> This ficlet was written 11/27/17 for [musesfool](http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org), in response to the prompt: _Cor/Aravis: Three wishes!_ It is also a [Genprompt Bingo](http://genprompt_bingo.dreamwidth.org) fill for the square _three wishes_.
> 
> The setting is 1024, two years after [The Courting Dance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2399957/chapters/5305829) and about five months after Lune's death; the coffee tariffs reference a conversation Cor and Aravis have in [chapter 11](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2399957/chapters/17752930). Some of the quoted proverbs are borrowed from Heliopause's excellent fic [Calormene Proverbs: a handbook for travellers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7527517), which you should go read immediately if you haven't already. :)

"The terms of our wager were clear," Aravis murmured into Cor's ear as they danced together on the thick summer grass of Anvard's inner courtyard, threading deftly around the other couples in precise, knot-like patterns. She moderated her smile into something that might pass as serene and gracious (though she suspected the illusion frayed somewhat at the corners of her eyes). "Corin challenged the Sarovencian ambassador _before_ the second course, which means you owe me three wishes. Three of my desires, fulfilled with no complaints or delays. Considering that I haven't invoked penalties for this conversation, I think I'm being excessively lenient."

Disgruntlement flickered over Cor's face, rather like a cat whose attempt to rescue itself from an unexpected mud puddle had only led it deeper into the mire, before he smoothed his expression into pleasant blandness. "I think I'm being excessively reasonable, considering that you led me to think this was an entirely personal affair. Matters of state should be off limits, as per our agreement during that mess about Corin's betrothal."

Aravis failed to catch the start of her reflexive wince, though she converted it almost seamlessly into a flirtatious tilt of her head.

Cor, annoyingly, caught both the reaction and the disguise. "Yes, exactly! And given that stipulation--"

"But I haven't asked anything that affects matters of state," Aravis interrupted. "If I wished for--"

The musicians reached the end of their song, and she broke off to bow her head and spread her skirts in honor of their skill while Cor turned at a tap on his shoulder and exchanged formulaic pleasantries with the Lady Mayor of Armouth and her nephew. The flutist gulped a quick glass of water while the fiddler retuned one of her strings and the drummer switched the tambor for a suspended metal frame and a pair of wool-wrapped mallets. Then the fiddler tapped her foot to give the beat, nodded her head, and they dove headfirst into a waltz. Cor bowed his excuses to the mayor and swept Aravis back into the dance.

It was slightly impolitic for the new king and his queen to continue dancing with each other rather than honor other partners, but in the first year of their ascension, the country still raw and tender from the shock of Lune's death, people were willing to indulge them. (The fact that half the court were still somewhat undecided whether dancing with Aravis was an honor or a backhanded insult was also relevant, though hopefully that idiocy would resolve itself by the time they no longer had the excuse of mourning to cradle them in its delicate, public shield.)

As they settled into their new rhythm, turning in neat triangles that swirled her Northern-style skirts out like a fan, Aravis resumed her point. "If I wished for you to reduce the coffee tariffs unilaterally, that would of course be in contravention of the terms. But I only asked that you add an equivalent surcharge to every _other_ culinary item that comes through Anvard's gates. The castle budget is, after all, your money. You don't even need to pay the excess to the merchants directly; you can set it aside as a special fund and use it for whatever good works you choose. But if I have to pay through the nose for my coffee, you can pay similarly for your own indulgences."

Cor rolled his eyes skyward. "Yes, gods forbid that I feed my people at reasonable rates. You do remember that I drink coffee, too? And that there are other tariffs, equally shortsighted, that affect far more people than the one on coffee?"

Aravis reapplied her serene smile. "Of course. I assure you, O my love and O the sun in my sky, that I have no intent to bankrupt you -- not least since your purse is also mine these days. But I think perhaps the annoyance will serve as a more effective reminder that coins speak louder and more eloquently than swords, particularly in a land whose lords cannot change the law at will. Let us set the forfeit at a term of one year."

"One month," Cor countered.

"Eight."

"Six."

Aravis allowed her smile to show teeth. "I believe we have an accord. Truly it is said, the gardener's perseverance brings forth perfume on the evening air."

Cor raised one eyebrow, pointedly, before capping her proverb: "Who wanders in the garden will best enjoy its _well-hidden_ delights."

Arrogant man, insulting her in the same breath he accepted her offer. Well, two could play that game. "Just so. And I daresay that those of discernment might even discover, among those hidden delights, two wishes whose terms might be more to their pleasure. But while heaven on earth may be found on horseback" -- or in a book, or between a lover's thighs, the proverb continued; but some things echoed more if left unsaid -- "one must recall that a horse which will not carry a saddle receives no oats."

Cor's hand tightened on her waist, but his voice was dry and even as he said, "So long as you don't mean that literally, I believe I could keep that in mind."

Aravis trailed the fingers of her left hand from Cor's shoulder, up the bare skin of his neck, and buried them in the soft hair that curled around his ear. "And if that were my second wish? The challenge Zardeenah set Sokda at the fountain, which he failed to his frustration?" she murmured.

"Then I would remind you that the courier whose whip is never still, though he be fastest with the news, will lose all his wages on horseflesh," Cor returned, still managing to sound very nearly calm, though the flush rising along his cheekbones betrayed him.

"Ah. In such a case, I believe I can think of other desires," Aravis said, and stretched upward with the dying notes of the waltz to press a kiss to her husband's mouth.

As she pulled away, and Cor's eyes opened bright with desire, she added, "After all, it would be a shame to bankrupt myself on your flesh when coffee is still so dear."

Cor never did manage a satisfactory public explanation of why he burst into helpless laughter in the middle of the Sarovencian ambassador's welcoming ball.


End file.
